Gin & Ginger
by knockoutmouse
Summary: Nathan visits Pickles after the breakup of Snakes 'N Barrels with a business proposition, but their discovery of mutual interests leads to a very different sort of proposition. The two come up with creative uses for silk scarves and other accessories. N/P, obviously.


**Author's Notes:**

Takes place slightly pre-Dethklok. I can buy the idea that Nathan and Pickles knew each other beforehand, so I'm going with that here.

I don't know what happened. I try to write PWP and end up with five pages of exposition. Skip ahead if you wish.

Combining alcohol and BDSM is generally considered an IRL no-no, but, after all, this is fiction.

**Contains:** Profanity, alcohol, mentions of drugs, sex acts (m/m) including light BDSM (bondage, teasing/denial), and implications of past domestic abuse, because I can't seem to write a story about Pickles without something horrible happening/having happened to him.

Nathan moved uneasily along the row of doors, barely able to make out the tarnished room numbers affixed to them between the gloom of the overhang and covering of clouds that emitted a gray drizzle over the parking lot. He paused at an ominous creak above his head, but the subsequent slam of a door made him realize that it was only a guest going out onto the deck of the motel's second floor. Stepping carefully to avoid the crumpled beer cans and other assorted trash that littered the dirty sidewalk, Nathan made his way to the door displaying the number 87, and hesitated again. Pickles was really staying here?

He knocked, and after a moment during which he was sure he was being watched through the peephole, he heard the scrape of a rusted deadbolt being slid back, and the door opened, Pickles remaining half-hidden in the shadow behind it. No sooner had Nathan stepped inside than Pickles closed and re-locked the door, nodding at Nathan to follow him into the pool of brassy lamplight surrounding the bed and chair in the center of the room.

It took Nathan a moment to find his voice, and then he asked, "Pickles, what's going on? Why are you staying in a place like this? Is everything—I mean, you're not in any trouble, are you?"

"Nah, nothin' like that," said Pickles with a shake of his head, picking up a glass half-full of a clear liquid and taking a sip. "'s just...I felt like getting away. Wanted to lie low for a couple weeks, ya know?"

Nathan nodded. "Snakes 'N Barrels is really finished, then?"

"Yeah." Pickles sighed and sank into the room's single shabby armchair, gesturing for Nathan to sit on the bed. "I went out to L.A. last week to talk to the rest of the guys, see if we could work somethin' out, only it didn't go so great."

"So it looks like you're back here for good?" asked Nathan, gesturing around the room at the various boxes and bags piled haphazardly against the walls, towering over the open suitcase next to the bed, spilling out all manner of unmetal attire: spandex, neon colors, silk scarves, high-heeled boots, even a glimpse of sequins glinting dully in the dim light.

"For now, at least. Tony told me to take the rest of my stuff or it'd end up in a dumpster, so here it is. Here I am," he added, a bitter smile crossing his face.

Nathan nodded again, taking care to keep his expression impassive. "No plans?"

"No plans."

"Then I have a proposition for you," said Nathan. "A business proposition."

The redhead's eyebrows rose. "I'm listening."

"I've got a new band starting up. It's really going somewhere this time. I mean it," he said, his eyes intense on Pickles's face, as if he suspected the other man of disbelieving him. "I've got William Murderface playing bass—you remember Murderface?"

"I've heard the name, but we've never met," said Pickles.

"Right, and I've got two guitarists who are pretty fucking brutal, but it could end up a bad combination. Both a little…uh…high-strung, you could say. Touchy. We've got a good sound, but something about it feels off."

"And what do ya want from me?" asked Pickles, taking another sip of his drink.

"I need a drummer," said Nathan, now fixing Pickles with his direct gaze. "And someone in the band who I trust. Someone to give things some…uh…stability."

"Dood, every project you've been involved with has been death metal. I do glam metal. You don't want me in this."

"Yes, I do," insisted Nathan. "You need a change of scenery, and I need you to be my drummer." He kept questioning eyes on Pickles, who gave a sigh.

"I'll think it over," he said finally. "Have a drink?" He offered Nathan a green bottle from the nightstand.

Nathan squinted at the label. "What's Tan-kwer-ay?" he asked. From Pickles's faint smile, Nathan guessed that this must have been a stupid question.

"Tanqueray. 's gin, dood."

"Oh," said Nathan apologetically. "My old man only ever had whiskey around," he added by way of explanation.

"Try it," suggested Pickles, still holding out the bottle to him. Nathan took it and cautiously sniffed the contents, then looked up uncertainly at Pickles.

"Straight?"

"Huh?"

"I should drink it straight?" Nathan asked.

"Oh. Nah, maybe not for your first time." Something in the way he said it made heat come into Nathan's face, but Pickles didn't see this, because he'd stood and turned. "I think I got some tonic water left here in the fridge."

"Gin and tonic, that's kind of girly," protested Nathan, before realizing that Pickles must have been drinking them if he had tonic around. To avoid saying anything else, he took a swig from the bottle, and managed, for the most part, not to choke.

"All right?" asked Pickles.

"Yeah," said Nathan, wiping liquor from his chin. "Fuck, that's strong. It's like drinking Pine-Sol."

"Juniper," said Pickles, which was apparently meant by way of explanation. Seeing Nathan's blank look, he clarified, "Gin's made with juniper berries. That's what the pine taste is from."

"Oh," said Nathan, and took another drink, grimacing as he swallowed.

"Ya don't have ta drink it straight," said Pickles. "If gin and tonic's no good for you, there should be half a bottle of vermouth around here somewhere, if you wanna have a martini." He started toward the scattering of shopping bags and dirty laundry in the corner. Nathan swung his legs over to the opposite side of the bed and stood next to him for the sake of something to do, idly glancing at the items that Pickles was rummaging through.

Pickles dumped out a plastic shopping bag, but when it yielded only a jar of olives and a can of shaving cream, he tossed it aside and pulled the nearest cardboard box towards them. "Ha, this should be it. Got the rest of my stash in here." He pushed aside a baggie of weed and a few condoms before unwrapping a worn t-shirt from around a bottle. "Hmm, vodka…let's see, it should be one of these others…here we go!"

But Nathan was staring down into the box as if both fascinated and slightly repelled by its contents.

"Dood?"

"Huh? Sorry, I was just—what's that?" Nathan pointed, and realized that he was blushing again.

Pickles looked down, and grinned. "What's the matter, ya never seen a ball gag before?" He grabbed it out of the box, letting it dangle from his fingers by one strap.

"Um. Not, like…not a real live one, only in a couple pornos. I mean…you really use that?" Nathan couldn't keep the shock out of his voice. He'd been vaguely aware that Pickles was into some pretty kinky stuff, but it wasn't as if he'd ever really _thought _about it. He'd been with plenty of women himself, and even a couple guys before, but for Nathan, sex was pretty standard.

"Sure," said Pickles. "It just goes on like this—" he demonstrated, sliding it into his mouth, and beginning to buckle it on. Nathan stared, his imagination fueled and his belly warmed by the liquor, and a pleasurable tingle beginning in his dick from the sight before him. Of course he'd wondered a few times what it would be like to try something different, but he'd never done it, had always felt too awkward to raise the issue.

"Wait," he said. "Take it off."

Pickles obliged, but gave the bigger man a quizzical look. "What's the deal? You're not freaked out, are ya?"

"No," said Nathan, "I just want to kiss you." He leaned down toward Pickles and let their lips brush together for an instant of uncertainty before he felt Pickles pull him closer, urging his lips to part, and he let him slide his tongue into his mouth. The next thing he knew, Pickles was pushing him back onto the bed, kissing him deeply, hands sliding under Nathan's shirt. Nathan kissed back, pulling him down close as Pickles straddled his hips, relishing the feeling of being able to hold the lithe, slender body in his arms. The two or three guys he'd hooked up with in the past had been built like him, ex-football players and bodybuilders. This was different. Not just because he was able to hold Pickles like this, but because he was his friend—admittedly, a friend whom he'd always held in a certain fascination, wondering what it'd be like to take him to bed.

Pickles gave a slight moan as Nathan moved a hand up his thigh. His breath came faster now, his pulse speeding up, not only from lust but also from the obvious affection the younger man showed for him, the way he cupped his face, the firm but gentle hands moving over his back and legs, making sure not to knock him off balance. It was an affection that had been missing from his life for a long time now. He closed his eyes and ran a hand down Nathan's chest.

Nathan shifted his position, gently tipping Pickles onto the mattress next to him, and breaking away from the kiss. "So you…uh…you like to be tied up?" he asked.

Pickles grinned. "Sure, sometimes. Why? You into that?'

"I…I might be. I, um, would like to try it…to tie you up. If you're okay with that."

The redhead propped himself up on one elbow, considering. "Normally I try not to get into that the first time with anybody, but, ya know, that's hookups. But you—you, I trust." He looked doubtfully around the motel room as if noting its lamentable tendency toward utilitarian furniture. "But where are we gonna do this?"

"I've got an idea," said Nathan, standing. "Come here." He leaned down to seize a silk scarf draped half in, half out of the other singer's suitcase.

"I think I like your idea so far," said Pickles. "Is there more?"

"Yeah, but you have to get naked first."

Pickles raised an eyebrow at him, then grinned. "Fine by me." He hastily undressed and followed as Nathan led him to the bathroom and pointed to the shower.

"Here."

"Ya wanna take a shower with me?" Pickles was perplexed. "Dood, I'm clean. I showered, like, four, five hours ago."

"No," growled Nathan, and guided him toward the shower, taking hold of his wrists and bringing them up, one on either side of the shower curtain rod.

"Oh," said Pickles. He'd never tried it this way before. In another moment, Nathan had bound his wrists securely to the bar with the scarf he'd taken from the other room.

Pickles tested the strength of his bonds and found that he couldn't easily escape, though he could probably get out on his own with sufficient effort. Good. He shivered, his cock beginning to stiffen.

"One second," said Nathan, and disappeared into the other room, only to return momentarily with lube in one hand and the ball gag in the other. "Looks good on you," said Nathan, raising the gag while tossing the lube carelessly into the sink. "You down with that?"

"S-sure," said Pickles, wishing Nathan would touch him instead of just standing there with his shirt stretched tight over his muscular frame, jeans clinging to that lovely ass.

Nathan started to reach toward him, then paused. "Um. How will I know if you, like, want me to stop?"

Pickles considered, then balanced on one foot to give Nathan a tap on the knee with the other. "I'll do that. Why, big guy, ya plannin' on hurting me?"

Nathan didn't answer, just offered a faint smirk, and put the ball gag on the other man. Once he'd fixed it securely in place, he leaned down to kiss Pickles on the neck, taking his time, tracing his tongue slowly over his skin and placing his hands on Pickles's sides, feeling him shiver again.

He moved to stand behind Pickles, one arm around his waist to hold him still, while his other hand moved lower to trace over Pickles's thigh, moving slowly upward. Pickles was breathing faster now, and Nathan found himself incredibly aroused to feel the smaller man trembling against him. Nathan bit his shoulder, eliciting a moan from the desperate redhead.

"You like that?" whispered Nathan, his breath hot against Pickles's face. "I bet you like all kinds of things." His hand moved higher still, his palm just grazing the underside of Pickles's cock, but without taking hold of him. Pickles gave a whimper and thrust toward Nathan's hand.

In response, Nathan's arm tightened around his waist as he shifted his grip, reaching up to pinch the other man's nipple. Pickles didn't quite like this, nor did he care for the rough feel of denim against his bare skin, nor the realization that Nathan was still fully dressed, but he _liked_ not liking it, and squirmed in vain against Nathan's firm hold on him, making him feel frustrated, completely helpless, _wonderful_.

Now Nathan cupped his balls, running his thumb along the underside of his cock, lightly, teasing. Too soon, his hand moved away, further back. Pickles felt a finger prodding at his entrance. It felt awkward and vaguely unpleasant, but stopped short of penetrating him and didn't actually hurt, and somehow, he liked it. Pickles had to admit, Nathan knew what he was doing.

Now Nathan released him and stepped away, but presently he moved to face Pickles and knelt in front of him. He licked softly at the head of Pickles's cock, taking hold of his hips at the same time, leaving him unable to thrust into his mouth. Pickles gave a muffled cry of frustration.

Nathan loved the sound of it, would've happily stripped down right there and gotten himself off while he watched Pickles struggle—but not this time, he decided. He eased back and then stood, unzipping his pants and freeing his own dick, pleased to see Pickles's eyes widen in astonishment at his size. Nathan turned and retrieved the bottle of lube from the sink. He poured a liberal amount into his palm and moved to stand behind Pickles, warming the liquid before applying it to his cock.

"Mmm?" inquired Pickles, with what sounded like apprehension.

"I'm not gonna fuck you," Nathan stated. When Pickles didn't seem to react, he went on, "You…uh…do you want me to stop?"

Pickles shook his head no.

"Good," growled Nathan, and grabbed him around the waist without warning, pulling him in close. He positioned his member in the cleft between the other man's buttocks and began to rub against him, slowly, placing his other hand on Pickles's chest to keep him in place. This was nice. Yeah. He found himself getting into it, and bit his lip to keep himself quiet. As his hand tightened over Pickles's ribs, he felt the smaller man flinch. Nathan automatically relaxed his grip and glanced down to see that his fingers rested on one of several faded bruises on his side and back that he hadn't noticed in the murky light cast by the dusty fixture over the mirror. His breath caught in his chest for a moment, but he told himself that it was none of his business. If Pickles didn't want to mention it, then it was nothing to do with him.

Now that Nathan had slowed his movements, Pickles tried to look back over his shoulder to see why. Nathan leaned down and bit his shoulder again, causing the redhead to arch back against him. Still pressing one hand to Pickles's chest to hold him in place, Nathan reached down and took hold of his own cock, tracing the head over Pickles's entrance, making him draw in his breath sharply.

"Hnnh," growled Nathan, moving up to nip at the other man's earlobe. "Nice…you feel nice," he whispered, continuing to rub the sensitive head of his member over the same spot, both men's skin warm and wet with lube and Nathan's pre-ejaculate.

"Mmmm mmm?" said Pickles, and Nathan correctly interpreted from his inflection that this meant _Fuck me?_

"No," he said. "I told you I wouldn't."

Pickles gave a whimper and shifted to rub against him, trying to move onto him. Nathan tightened an arm around his chest and reached up to seize a handful of tangled red hair.

"I said no," he hissed. "No matter how much you want it, I'm not giving it to you."

Pickles made a sound almost like a sob as Nathan released his hair and reached back down to readjust his dick, beginning once again to thrust upward between his asscheeks, grunting in pleasure as he got into a steady rhythm and felt Pickles writhing against him. He pulled Pickles closer, one hand snaking down only to stop at his pubic hair, massing gently, while the other went absently to his chest to play with one nipple. It was Pickles's unintelligible moans and cries that finally sent Nathan over the edge, and he finished with a growl, seeing with satisfaction his own hot, translucent fluid dripping slowly down Pickles's back.

Panting, he rested his forehead on Pickles's shoulder, still loosely holding the other man against him. He didn't get much rest, though, since Pickles almost immediately shrugged him away, giving a pleading moan and nodding downward toward his straining cock. Nathan moved to face him, and Pickles stepped forward, thrusting desperately against him, but Nathan placed a hand against his chest and moved back. He leaned in to kiss Pickles on the throat, drawing in the soft skin between his teeth hard enough to mark him just below the jaw, then moving lower to kiss down his chest and let his tongue play over first one nipple, then the other, feeling Pickles trembling against his lips.

Now Nathan dropped to his knees and took Pickles's cock into his mouth, slowly, eliciting a cry of relief from him. Nathan took hold of his hips, still not letting him trust, but he moved quickly, taking in most of Pickles's length without difficulty and swallowing around him a few times, extending his tongue to reach all the way to the base of his cock. Nathan slid back, slowly, looking up to take in the sight of Pickles with his head thrown back, eyes closed, cheeks flushed as Nathan darted his tongue over the sensitive spot at the underside of his head. It didn't take long at all before Pickles came, screaming, spilling into Nathan's mouth.

Nathan waited until he'd completely finished, then eased off his rapidly-softening cock and stood. Quickly, he untied Pickles and removed the gag, tossing it into the sink to join the bottle of lube. He placed an arm around Pickles's shoulders, making sure he didn't stumble over the edge of the bathtub, and helped him into the bedroom. Pickles collapsed gracefully onto the bed. Before Nathan joined him, he went to the mini-fridge and found a bottle of water, which he brought to Pickles.

"Here," he said, and threw himself down next to him.

"Thanks," said Pickles, sitting up to take a sip from it.

"Um," said Nathan. "Was that—was that okay, or—?"

"Oh, _fuck_ yeah," said Pickles, turning to look down at Nathan, his glittering green eyes still slightly unfocused. He let his head drop back to the pillow. "That—that was fuckin' amazing, dood."

Nathan hesitated a moment, then rolled over toward Pickles, draping an arm over his chest and breathing in the scent of sweat and gin.

"So, about that business proposition of yours," said Pickles, reaching up to brush away a few strands of dark hair that had fallen into Nathan's face.

"Mm-hmm?" murmured Nathan.

"I think I'd be willing to take you up on that. Ya know, for, like, artistic reasons," he added. "A change of pace would do me some good, right?"

"Right," agreed Nathan. "I mean, you'll need a new look."

"Yeah?" said Pickles.

"Yeah. We're dark and brutal, not glam," Nathan explained. "But…don't get rid of those scarves."


End file.
